Johanna Mason's Story: They Can't Hurt Me
by candybabyx
Summary: Hunger Games story of Johanna's life in her point of view starting with the day that she is reaped. The title is based of what she said in the Quarter Quell, "They can't hurt me. I'm not like the rest of you. There's no one left I love." ―Johanna Mason


Hey guys! I just wanted to say that in this Chapter Johanna is only about 13 – 14 years old. She was one of the youngest tributes to win. Just clearing that up! That is why she sounds more young and innocent as well. Happy Reading!

I don't own the Hunger Games - Suzanne Collins created the characters and everything, and she is amazing. I was also really inspired by her writing when I was writing this :)

Reaping Day ; 1

When I wake, I smell fresh air from my window by my bed. It must have rained last night. There is an unfamiliar chill in the air and it is more silent than usual. I get up and see my mother already preparing for dinner. I am about to ask why, until I see a familiar group of people in white uniforms, peacekeepers. It's reaping day. My family isn't poor, but we aren't rich either. So there is no need for tesserae. I am neither nervous nor scared about being picked - or so I tell myself. I gather my things, an axe and my grandmother's necklace, and head outside. The good thing about district 7 is that there is always enough water and trees. It smells like pine and the air is always fresh. It's as if the rain is able to wash away the pollution and fog away. The pavement is almost always wet with rain. Everywhere you look its green, from the trees to the mountains to the grass. It's one of the things I love about here. I walk to the nearby forest and see people already at work, including my father. He smiles at me as I walk towards him and says,

"You shouldn't carry around an axe all the time, and it makes you look more intimidating. You'll chase all the boys away." I laugh because there is no way I'm getting married and it's just like him to ignore the fact that it's reaping day. I've never met anyone who actually liked me for who I am. I'm not complaining though, mostly because I truly do not care about anyone's opinion. But nonetheless, I put my axe down next to him, show him my hands are empty and find a tree to lean on that's not being cut down. The bark is still damp and it sends a shiver down my back. Some peacekeepers have arrived to collect wood for the Capitol. I try my best not to glare at them. The Capitol makes the districts provide supplies, food, and entertainment. Well at least they think the Hunger Games are entertaining, and I hate them. The worst part is they still treat us like we are insects waiting to be crushed by the Capitol's boot.

The sound of a crying little girl snaps me back to reality. The only good part about being an only child is you don't have to take care of your siblings, I think as I watch a boy about my age pulling his crying little sister away from her father to get ready for the reaping. His features were easy to remember, he had deep green eyes, they looked like the trees here and dirty blonde hair that was always so short it barely existed. I think I saw him in school; his name was Marvy - Maureen - Maurice, whatever. Something that started with an M. I start to head back home but I pick up my axe and hide in under my shirt so the peacekeepers won't take it from me. My father pretends not to see. Technically, women of a higher class are not supposed to lumber. My mother strictly forbids it. I can't cook or do any useful chores so when I was younger I would wear a hood and sneak out with my father, and he would show me how to handle an axe. There were other kids there as well with their parents, but they were all poor, much more poor than we were. I could barely walk when my father first taught me. If my mother ever found out about this arrangement she would probably go insane. Then again, she never really understood anything I did or said.

When I get home, I see a dress laid out for me on my bed. It's the same one every year. I almost laugh because I never wear dresses or skirts. Especially on reaping days when the Capitol expects you to dress up. It's my own way to show my pride and that the Capitol can't control me. My mother comes in and says,

"Your grandmother wore that dress to her reaping when she was your age." I feel a pang of guilt hit me. My grandmother was the only person who knew how I operated. I shook my head before the memories became too painful. The people here already labeled me as 'the crazy girl'.

"Why didn't you tell me that before?" I asked more harshly than I intended.

"It just never seemed to matter. But you are older now, and peacekeepers are becoming stricter. I thought it would be the only argument that would make you wear something nice for a change" she says slowly. I had to refrain myself from yelling terrible things at her. How dare she use that against me? Instead I say,

"I'm going to change." I turn away and take the dress, but I can feel her watching me. I don't want her here so I walk to the bathroom and slam the door. I change into the dress and put on my grandmother's necklace. It was in the shape on a cluster of evergreen leaves. The dress is light blue and laced. I look in the mirror and see just a girl. I look weak and fragile in a dress and I feel so much more vulnerable. I looked like my mother and I hated it. The only thing stopping me from ripping it off was my grandmother. She always told me as a kid that, "Weakness, sometimes is the strongest weapon." I never understood what she meant but she just kept telling me that one day I will know. They were also the last words she ever said to me. It was the only thing that she said that seemed like nonsense. Maybe it was the old age that caused her to say that. I opened the door and saw my mother and father standing there waiting. My father looks shocked for a second but then quickly tries to hide it. He never shows any emotion in front of others. We walk to the square and they check off our names one by one. My parents stand of to the side. I wait for others to gather and I catch the boy I saw earlier today watching me. He smiles at me and his eyes sparkle like dew on a tree's leaves. I nod and smile back, confused. No one talks to me ever, but I guess its reaping day so everyone feels more obligated to be nice. I wish I knew his name. My thoughts were interrupted by an obnoxiously high pitched voice,

"It's Reaping Day! Isn't it so exciting? First we have a video to show all of you all, brought to you by the Capitol" Evangeline, the District 7 escort, says. She was wearing green everything, even her skin was green. I wonder if they know how peculiar they look to everyone else. Instead of watching the video, which is the same every year I examine who else is on stage. There is the mayor Grayson, who never really goes outside, Blight, the District 7 mentor who doesn't seem to be paying much attention, and of course Evangeline.

"Now, let us start the drawing! Ladies first!" Evangeline says. I roll my eyes and think about what I should do when this is all over. I'm probably going to throw my axe around and –

"Johanna Mason!" –What? For a second I feel like the whole world had stopped spinning. There is no need to push through the crowd like I usually have to. There are whispers, 'the crazy girl?' 'Who is Johanna Mason?' I walk up the stage steps slowly. I don't even notice that I'm trembling until I'm on stage and see my hands shaking. I quickly hide them behind my back before realizing that only made me look weaker. I stand as straight as I possibly can and try to dig my feet into the ground so I won't shake. I stare straight ahead as I try to focus. I concentrate on the forest I was at this morning, but all I can hear is my grandmother's last words. "Weakness is sometimes the strongest weapon."

"Johanna? Are you going to shake hands with the boy or not?" Evangeline's shrilly voice says while making me jump. I turn and see it's him. The boy I saw earlier, who smiled at me. He wasn't smiling anymore. He swallowed as I shook hands with him. His eyes stared right into mine, and I couldn't help thinking about his little sister and how she was going to have to watch him get killed. It was a steady hand shake which helped a little with my shakiness. Next thing I know there are peacekeepers pushing me inside.

"Stop touching me" I snap at them. They back up again and the shock starts to wear off on me. I got picked to play in the Hunger Games out of a stupid fishbowl.


End file.
